Legacy on the Shelves: The Oldest Black-Owned Bookstores in America
Every time I walk into a Black-owned bookstore, it feels like stepping into a sacred space. Not just because it smells like paper and possibility, but because the walls hold the echoes of ancestors who wrote, resisted, and remembered. These places aren’t just bookstores. They’re community hubs, cultural archives, and battlegrounds where Black stories have fought to survive and thrive.
Growing up, we didn’t always see ourselves in school books. The history was watered down, the heroes barely mentioned, and the trauma sanitized. But when I found Black-owned bookstores? That’s where I met the truth. That’s where I learned that our brilliance ran deeper than what they were teaching in class. And that’s why these bookstores are so important. They don’t just sell stories—they protect our history and our future.
Let me tell you about three Black-owned bookstores that have been doing just that for decades. These aren't just shops—they're legends.

Marcus Books – Oakland, CA (Est. 1960)
Just a year after Hakim’s opened, Marcus Books was born in Oakland, California. Named after none other than Marcus Garvey, this store has been a literary sanctuary for the Black community on the West Coast for over 60 years. It’s not just a bookstore—it’s a cultural institution.
Marcus Books has welcomed everyone from Angela Davis to James Baldwin. Its shelves are stacked with stories from every corner of the diaspora—history, politics, poetry, children’s books, sci-fi, and spirituality. For generations, it’s been a place where Black folks could gather, learn, heal, and organize. Through movements and moments, Marcus Books stood tall. And despite threats of closure and displacement, the community fought for it—and won. That’s how deeply rooted it is. That’s how much it matters.
When you walk into Marcus Books, you don’t feel like a customer—you feel like kin. Like you’re part of something bigger than yourself. And that’s the power of a space built with purpose.

Hakim’s Bookstore – Philadelphia, PA. (Est. 1959)
Let’s start with the OG. Hakim’s is the oldest known Black-owned bookstore in the United States. It was founded in 1959 by Dawud Hakim, a man who saw the lies being taught in school and decided enough was enough. He opened Hakim’s to give Black folks access to our true history—African history, African American history, and everything in between.
Back then, just stocking a book about African kings or Black revolutionaries was considered radical. But Mr. Hakim stood firm. He built a space where our people could come to reclaim the narratives we’d been stripped of. And through assassinations, uprisings, and movements, Hakim’s remained a beacon of truth. Today, his daughter Yvonne Blake runs the store, keeping her father's vision alive and evolving. When you step into Hakim’s, you don’t just browse—you witness legacy. You feel the weight of generations, and the promise of more to come.

Sister’s Uptown Bookstore – Harlem, NY (Est. 2000)
Now let’s talk about Harlem. Sister’s Uptown Bookstore may be the youngest of the three, but don’t get it twisted—this place is holding it down for the culture. Opened in 2000 by Janifer Wilson, a retired nurse who turned her passion for books into a mission, Sister’s Uptown is the longest-running Black-owned bookstore in New York City today.
This bookstore was created with love, by a Black woman, for the community. And it shows. For over 20 years, Sister’s has been a safe space where people can gather, learn, express, and evolve. The store doesn’t just sell books—it hosts readings, workshops, author talks, youth events, and healing circles. It’s a place where your child can find their first book with a character who looks like them, and your grandmother can find a novel that speaks her truth.
In a city that’s constantly changing, where Black spaces are disappearing at an alarming rate, Sister’s Uptown remains rooted. It’s a home for Harlem—and for all of us who believe that Black stories matter.

These bookstores aren’t relics. They’re resistance. They’re refuge. They’re ours.
They’ve stood through decades of struggle and celebration, of progress and pushback. And they’ve done it by staying true to the mission: centering Black voices, preserving Black history, and nurturing Black futures.
So here’s my call to action:
Visit them: If you’re in Philly, Oakland, or Harlem—go. Step into these sacred spaces. Feel what it’s like to be surrounded by stories made for you.
Support them: Buy a book, attend an event, send a donation. Every dollar helps keep their doors open and their shelves full.
Share them: Tell your friends, tag them online, uplift them in your circles. Let folks know that these spaces exist—and that they matter.
Protect them: Advocate for them. Fight for them when they’re under threat. They’ve been fighting for us all along.
These aren’t just bookstores. They’re battlegrounds for Black truth. They’re the soul of our communities. And they deserve more than survival—they deserve our celebration, our dollars, and our deepest respect.
Let’s keep these legacies alive. Let’s make sure our shelves always reflect us.
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